AG ROLL OF THUNDER 10/10/05 9:13 AM Page 80

Chapter Six

Š Why does Stacey The ride home was long and silent. None of us felt like
say Cassie should not talking, not even T.J. Big Ma had informed him shortly after
blame Big Ma? leaving Strawberry that she did not want to hear another
word out of him before we reached home. He sulked for a
while with a few audible grumbles which no one paid any
attention to, but finally he fell asleep and did not awaken
until we had driven up the Granger road and stopped in
front of the Avery house.

By the time Jack pulled into our own yard, the night was
a thick blackness and smelled of a coming rain. Big Ma
climbed wearily down from the wagon and went into the
house without a word. I stayed with Stacey to help him put
the wagon inside the barn and unhitch and feed Jack. While
I held the flashlight on the barn doors, Stacey slowly slid
aside the plank of wood that held the doors fastened.
“Cassie,” he said, in a quiet, thoughtful voice, “don’t go
blaming Big Ma for what she done.”

“Why not?” I asked angrily. “She made me apologize to
that ole ugly Lillian Jean ’bout something wasn’t even my
fault. She took them ole Simmses’ side without even hearing
mine.”

“Well, maybe she couldn’t help it, Cassie. Maybe she had
to do it.”

“Had to do it!” I practically screamed. “She didn’t have to
do nothin’! She’s grown just like that Mr. Simms and she
should’ve stood up for me. I wouldn’t’ve done her that way.”

Stacey put the plank on the ground and leaned against the
barn. “There’s things you don’t understand, Cassie—”

“And I s’pose you do, huh? Ever since you went down into
Louisiana to get Papa last summer you think you know so
doggone much! Well, I betcha I know one thing. If that had
been Papa, he wouldn’t’ve made me apologize! He would’ve
listened to me!”

Stacey sighed and swung open the barn doors. “Well, Papa
. . . that’s different. But Big Ma ain’t Papa and you can’t
expect . . .” His voice trailed off as he peered into the barn.
Suddenly he cried, “Cassie, give me that flashlight!” Then,
before I could object, he tore the flashlight from my hand
and shone it into the barn.

“What’s Mr. Granger’s car doing in our barn?” I exclaimed
as the silver Packard was unveiled by the light. Without
answering me, Stacey swiftly turned and ran toward the
house. I followed closely behind. Throwing open the door to

80 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

Mama’s room, we stood dumbfounded in the doorway. ¥ Whom did Stacey
Instead of Mr. Granger, a tall, handsome man, nattily dressed and Cassie expect to
in a gray pin-striped suit and vest, stood by the fire with his see? Whom do they
arm around Big Ma. For a moment we swayed with excite- see instead?
ment, then as if by signal we both cried, “Uncle Hammer!”
and dashed into his arms. ¥ In what way is
Uncle Hammer
Uncle Hammer was two years older than Papa and, different from Papa?
unmarried, he came every winter to spend the Christmas
season with us. Like Papa, he had dark, red-brown skin, a ¥ Why had Uncle
square-jawed face, and high cheekbones; yet there was a Hammer gotten a car
great difference between them somehow. His eyes, which like Mr. Granger’s?
showed a great warmth as he hugged and kissed us now,
often had a cold, distant glaze, and there was an aloofness in
him which the boys and I could never quite bridge.

When he let us go, Stacey and I both grew consciously
shy, and we backed away. I sat down beside Christopher-
John and Little Man, who were silently gazing up at Uncle
Hammer, but Stacey stammered, “Wh-what’s Mr. Granger’s
car doing in our barn?”

“That’s your Uncle Hammer’s car,” Mama said. “Did you
unhitch Jack?”

“Uncle Hammer’s!” Stacey exclaimed, exchanging
shocked glances with me. “No kidding?”

Big Ma stammered, “Hammer, you—you went and got a
car like Harlan Granger’s?”

Uncle Hammer smiled a strange, wry smile. “Well, not
exactly like it, Mama. Mine’s a few months newer. Last year
when I come down here, I was right impressed with that big
ole Packard of Mr. Harlan Filmore Granger’s and I thought
I’d like to own one myself. It seems that me and Harlan
Granger just got the same taste.” He winked slyly at Stacey.
“Don’t it, Stacey?”

Stacey grinned.
“You like, maybe we’ll all go riding in it one day. If it’s all
right with your mama.”
“Oh, boy!” cried Little Man.
“You mean it, Uncle Hammer?” I asked. “Mama, can we?”
“We’ll see,” Mama said. “But in any case, not tonight.
Stacey, go take care of Jack and draw up a bucket of water for
the kitchen. We’ve done the other chores.”
Since no one told me to help Stacey, I forgot all about Jack

WWords dumb • found • ed (dum´found əd) adv., a • loof • ness (ə lo—of´nis) n., indifference,
For astonished, puzzled state of being removed or distant
Everyday
Use nat • ti • ly (nat´ə le¯) adv., trimly and tidily, sly • ly (sl¯´le¯) adj., in a manner intended
neatly to avoid notice

CHAPTER SIX 81

Š Why does Big Ma and settled back to listen to Uncle Hammer.
try to keep Cassie Christopher-John and Little Man, who Big Ma had feared
from telling her would be moping because they had not been allowed to go
story? to town, seemed not at all concerned that Stacey and I had
gone. They were awestruck by Uncle Hammer, and compared
Š What differing to his arrival a day in Strawberry was a minor matter.
reactions do Big Ma
and Uncle Hammer For a while Uncle Hammer talked only to Mama and Big
have to what Cassie Ma, laughing from deep down inside himself like Papa, but
said to Mr. Barnett? then to my surprise he turned from them and addressed me.
“I understand you had your first trip to Strawberry today,
Cassie,” he said. “What did you think?”

Big Ma stiffened, but I was pleased to have this opportu-
nity to air my side of the Strawberry affair. “I didn’t like it,”
I said. “Them ole Simmses—”

“Mary, I feel a bit hungry,” Big Ma interrupted abruptly.
“Supper still warm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mama standing. “I’ll set it on the table
for you.”

As Mama stood up, I started again, “Them ole Simmses—”
“Let Cassie get it, Mary,” said Big Ma nervously. “You must
be tired.”
I looked strangely at Big Ma, then up at Mama.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Mama, heading for the kitchen.
“Go ahead, Cassie, and tell your uncle about Strawberry.”
“That ole Lillian Jean Simms made me so mad I could just
spit. I admit that I bumped into her, but that was ’cause I was
thinking ’bout that ole Mr. Barnett waiting on everybody
else in his ole store ’fore he waited on us—”
“Jim Lee Barnett?” asked Uncle Hammer, turning toward
Big Ma. “That ole devil still living?”
Big Ma nodded mutely, and I went on. “But I told him he
shouldn’t’ve been ’round there waiting on everybody else
’fore he got to us—”
“Cassie!” Big Ma exclaimed, hearing this bit of news for
the first time.
Uncle Hammer laughed. “You told him that!”
“Yessir,” I said softly, wondering why he was laughing.
“Oh, that’s great! Then what happened?”
“Stacey made me leave and Mr. Barnett told me I couldn’t
come back no more and then I bumped into that con-

WWords mope (mo¯p) vt., brood, be listless or a • brupt • ly (ə brupt´le¯) adv., suddenly,
For dejected
Everyday without warning
Use awe • struck (ô´strək) adj., filled with won- mute • ly (myo—ot´le¯) adv., wordlessly
der or dread

82 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

founded Lillian Jean and she tried to make me get off the ¥ How does Uncle
sidewalk and then her daddy come along and he—” Hammer’s reactions
change when he
Big Ma’s eyes grew large and she whispered hoarsely, hears about what
“Cassie, I don’t think—” Mr. Simms did?

“—and he twisted my arm and knocked me off the side- ¥ What does Mama
walk!” I exclaimed, unwilling to muffle what Mr. Simms had do to try to stop
done. I glanced triumphantly at Big Ma, but she wasn’t look- Uncle Hammer?
ing at me. Her eyes, frightened and nervous, were on Uncle
Hammer. I turned and looked at him too.

His dark eyes had narrowed to thin, angry slits. He said:
“He knocked you off the sidewalk, Cassie? A grown man
knocked you off the sidewalk?”

“Y-yessir.”
“This Lillian Jean Simms, her daddy wouldn’t be Charlie
Simms, would it?”
“Y-yessir.”
Uncle Hammer grasped my shoulders. “What else he do to
you?”
“N-nothin’,” I said, frightened by his eyes. “’Cepting he
wanted me to apologize to Lillian Jean ’cause I wouldn’t get
in the road when she told me to.”
“And you did?”
“Big Ma said I had to.”
Uncle Hammer released me and sat very still. No one said
a word. Then he stood slowly, his eyes icing into that cold
distant way they could, and he started toward the door,
limping slightly on his left leg. Christopher-John, Little Man,
and I stared after him wonderingly, but Big Ma jumped up
from her chair, knocking it over in her haste, and dashed
after him. She grabbed his arm. “Let it be, son!” she cried.
“That child ain’t hurt!”
“Not hurt! You look into her eyes and tell me she ain’t
hurt!”
Mama came back from the kitchen with Stacey behind
her. “What is it?” she asked, looking from Big Ma to Uncle
Hammer.
“Charlie Simms knocked Cassie off the sidewalk in
Strawberry and the child just told Hammer,” said Big Ma in
one breath, still holding on to Uncle Hammer’s arm.
“Oh, Lord,” Mama groaned. “Stacey, get Mr. Morrison.
Quick, now!” As Stacey sped from the room, Mama’s eyes

WWords muf • fle (muf´‘l) vt., suppress or hide the sound
For
Everyday CHAPTER SIX 83
Use

Š Why doesn’t darted to the shotgun over the bed, and she edged between
Uncle Hammer agree it and Uncle Hammer. Uncle Hammer was watching her
with Mama’s ideas and he said quietly, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gotta use David’s
about “unnecessary gun. . . . I got my own.”
trouble”?
Suddenly Mama lunged to the side door, blocking it with
Š What do Cassie her slender body. “Hammer, now you listen to me—”
and Little Man hope
happens? But Uncle Hammer gently but firmly pushed her to one
side and, brushing Big Ma from his arm, opened the door
and bounded down the steps into the light rain.

Little Man, Christopher-John, and I dashed to the door as
Big Ma and Mama ran after him. “Get back inside,” Mama
called over her shoulder, but she was too busy trying to grab
Uncle Hammer to see to it that we obeyed, and we did not
move. “Hammer, Cassie’s all right,” she cried. “Don’t go
making unnecessary trouble!”

“Unnecessary trouble! You think my brother died and I
got my leg half blown off in their German war1 to have some
red-neck knock Cassie around anytime it suits him? If I’d’ve
knocked his girl down, you know what’d’ve happened to
me? Yeah, you know all right. Right now I’d be hanging from
that oak over yonder. Let go of me, Mary.”

Mama and Big Ma could not keep him from reaching the
car. But just as the Packard roared to life, a huge figure
loomed from the darkness and jumped into the other side,
and the car zoomed angrily down the drive into the black-
ness of the Mississippi night.

“Where’d he go?” I asked as Mama slowly climbed the
steps. Her face under the glow of the lamp was tired, drained.
“He went up to the Simmses’, didn’t he? Didn’t he, Mama?”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Mama said, stepping aside
and waiting until both Big Ma and Stacey were inside; then
she locked the door.

“Mr. Morrison’ll bring him back,” said Christopher-John
confidently, although he looked somewhat bewildered by all
that had happened.

“If he don’t,” said Little Man ominously, “I betcha Uncle
Hammer’ll teach that ole Mr. Simms a thing or two. ’Round
here hitting on Cassie.”

“I hope he knocks his block off,” I said.

1. German war. World War II

WWords lunge (lunj) vt., move forward in a sudden om • i • nous • ly (am´ə nəs le¯) adv., in a
For rush or jab manner threatening evil
Everyday
Use be • wil • dered (bə wil´dərd) adj., con-
fused and overwhelmed

84 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

Mama’s gaze blazed down upon us. “I think little mouths ¥ What does Mama
that have so much to say must be very tired.” tell Cassie about
what Big Ma did?
“No, ma’am, Mama, we ain’t—”
“Go to bed.” ¥ Why did Big Ma
“Mama, it ain’t but—” Mama’s face hardened, and I knew do what she did?
that it would not be in my best interest to argue further; I
turned and did as I was told. Christopher-John and Little
Man did the same. When I got to my door, I asked, “Ain’t
Stacey coming?”
Mama glanced down at Stacey sitting by the fire. “I don’t
recall his mouth working so hard, do you?”
“No’m,” I muttered and went into my room. After a few
minutes Mama came in. Without a word of reprimand, she
picked up my clothes from where I had tossed them at the
foot of the bed, and absently draping them over the back of
a chair, she said, “Stacey tells me you blame Big Ma for what
happened today. Is that right?”
I thought over her question and answered, “Not for all of
it. Just for making me apologize to that ole dumb Lillian Jean
Simms. She oughtn’t’ve done that, Mama. Papa would-
n’t’ve—”
“I don’t want to hear what Papa wouldn’t have done!”
Mama snapped. “Or what Mr. Morrison wouldn’t have done
or Uncle Hammer! You were with Big Ma and she did what
she had to do and believe me, young lady, she didn’t like
doing it one bit more than you did.”
“Well,” I muttered, “maybe so, but—”
“There’s no maybe to it.”
“Yes’m,” I said softly, deciding that it was better to study
the patchwork pattern on the quilt until the anger left
Mama’s eyes and I could talk to her again. After a moment
she sat beside me on the bed and raised my chin with the tip
of her forefinger. “Big Ma didn’t want you to be hurt,” she
said. “That was the only thing on her mind . . . making sure
Mr. Simms didn’t hurt you.”
“Yes’m,” I murmured, then flared, “But, Mama, that
Lillian Jean ain’t got the brains of a flea! How come I gotta
go ’round calling her ‘Miz’ like she grown or something?”
Mama’s voice grew hard. “Because that’s the way of
things, Cassie.”
“The way of what things?” I asked warily.

WWords re • pri • mand (rə´pri mand) n., criticism for fault
For
Everyday CHAPTER SIX 85
Use

Š Why does Mr. “Baby, you had to grow up a little today. I wish . . . well,
Simms think Lillian no matter what I wish. It happened and you have to accept
Jean is better than the fact that in the world outside this house, things are not
Cassie? What does always as we would have them to be.”
Mama teach Cassie?
“But, Mama, it ain’t fair. I didn’t do nothin’ to that con-
founded Lillian Jean. How come Mr. Simms went and
pushed me like he did?”

Mama’s eyes looked deeply into mine, locked into them,
and she said in a tight, clear voice, “Because he thinks Lillian
Jean is better than you are, Cassie, and when you—”

“That ole scrawny, chicken-legged, snaggle-toothed,
cross—”

“Cassie.” Mama did not raise her voice, but the quiet force
of my name silenced me. “Now,” she said, folding my hand
in hers, “I didn’t say that Lillian Jean is better than you. I
said Mr. Simms only thinks she is. In fact, he thinks she’s bet-
ter than Stacey or Little Man or Christopher-John—”

“Just ’cause she’s his daughter?” I asked, beginning to
think Mr. Simms was a bit touched in the head.

“No, baby, because she’s white.”
Mama’s hold tightened on mine, but I exclaimed, “Ah,
shoot! White ain’t nothin’!”
Mama’s grip did not lessen. “It is something, Cassie.
White is something just like black is something. Everybody
born on this earth is something and nobody, no matter what
color, is better than anybody else.”
“Then how come Mr. Simms don’t know that?”
“Because he’s one of those people who has to believe that
white people are better than black people to make himself
feel big.” I stared questioningly at Mama, not really under-
standing. Mama squeezed my hand and explained further.
“You see, Cassie, many years ago when our people were first
brought from Africa in chains to work as slaves in this coun-
try—”
“Like Big Ma’s papa and mama?”
Mama nodded. “Yes, baby, like Papa Luke and Mama
Rachel, except they were born right here in Mississippi. But
their grandparents were born in Africa, and when they came
there were some white people who thought that it was
wrong for any people to be slaves; so the people who needed
slaves to work in their fields and the people who were mak-
ing money bringing slaves from Africa preached that black
people weren’t really people like white people were, so slav-
ery was all right.
“They also said that slavery was good for us because it
taught us to be good Christians—like the white people.” She

86 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

sighed deeply, her voice fading into a distant whisper. “But ¥ What does Mama
they didn’t teach us Christianity to save our souls, but to tell Cassie about
teach us obedience. They were afraid of slave revolts and Christianity and
they wanted us to learn the Bible’s teachings about slaves slavery?
being loyal to their masters. But even teaching us
Christianity didn’t make us stop wanting to be free, and ¥ How many years
many slaves ran away—” have passed since
slavery ended? What
“Papa Luke ran away,” I reminded her, thinking of the has not changed?
story of how Great-Grandpa had run away three times. He
had been caught and punished for his disobedience, but his
owners had not tried to break him, for he had had a knowl-
edge of herbs and cures. He had tended both the slaves and
the animals of the plantation, and it was from him that Big
Ma had learned medicines.

Mama nodded again. “That’s right, honey. He was hiding
in a cave when freedom came,2 so I understand.” She was
silent a moment, then went on. “Well, after a while, slavery
became so profitable to people who had slaves and even to
those who didn’t that most folks decided to believe that
black people really weren’t people like everybody else. And
when the Civil War was fought and Mama Rachel and Papa
Luke and all the other slaves were freed, people continued to
think that way. Even the Northerners who fought the war
didn’t really see us equal to white people. So now, even
though seventy years have passed since slavery, most white
people still think of us as they did then—that we’re not as
good as they are—and people like Mr. Simms hold on to that
belief harder than some other folks because they have little
else to hold on to. For him to believe that he is better than
we are makes him think that he’s important, simply because
he’s white.”

Mama relaxed her grip. I knew that she was waiting for me
to speak. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach and I felt
as if the world had turned itself upside down with me in it.
Then I thought of Lillian Jean and a surging anger gurgled
upward and I retaliated, “Well, they ain’t!” But I leaned closer
to Mama, anxiously hoping that she would agree with me.

2. when freedom came. Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation
Proclamation on January 1, 1863, freeing slaves in certain areas. Slavery was
abolished by the thirteeth amendment in 1865.

WWords re • volt (ri vo¯lt) n., rebellion, uprising
For surg • ing (sərj´iŋ) adj., billowing, moving in waves
Everyday
Use CHAPTER SIX 87

Š Why wasn’t it a “Of course they aren’t,” Mama said. “White people may
sign of respect when demand our respect, but what we give them is not respect
Cassie called Lillian but fear. What we give to our own people is far more impor-
Jean, “Miss”? tant because it’s given freely. Now you may have to call
Lillian Jean ‘Miss’ because the white people say so, but you’ll
Š How does Mama also call our own young ladies at church ‘Miss’ because you
feel about the idea really do respect them.
that Mr. Morrison
might not stop Uncle “Baby, we have no choice of what color we’re born or who
Hammer? our parents are or whether we’re rich or poor. What we do
have is some choice over what we make of our lives once
we’re here.” Mama cupped my face in her hands. “And I pray
to God you’ll make the best of yours.” She hugged me
warmly then and motioned me under the covers.

As she turned the lamp down low, I asked, “Mama, Uncle
Hammer. If Mr. Morrison can’t stop him, what’ll happen?”

“Mr. Morrison will bring him back.”
“But just what if he can’t and Uncle Hammer gets to Mr.
Simms?”
A shadowy fear fleeted across her face, but disappeared
with the dimming light. “I think . . . I think you’ve done
enough growing up for one day, Cassie,” she said without
answering my question. “Uncle Hammer’ll be all right. Now
go to sleep.”

Mama had been right about Uncle Hammer. When I
awoke the next morning and followed the smell of frying
ham and baking biscuits into the kitchen, there he sat at the
table drinking coffee with Mr. Morrison. He was unshaven
and looked a bit bleary-eyed, but he was all right; I wondered
if Mr. Simms looked so good. I didn’t get a chance to ask,
because as soon as I had said good morning Mama called me
into her room, where a tub of hot water was waiting by the
fireplace.

“Hurry up,” she said. “Uncle Hammer’s going to take us to
church.”

“In his car?”
Mama’s brow furrowed. “Well, I just don’t know. He did
say something about hitching up Jack . . .”
My smile faded, but then I caught the teasing glint in her
eyes, and she began to laugh. “Ah, Mama!” I laughed, and
splashed into the water.

WWords fleet (fle¯t) vt., move swiftly
For
Everyday
Use
88 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

After my bath I went into my room to dress. When I
rejoined Mama she was combing her hair, which fanned her
head like an enormous black halo. As I watched, she shaped
the long thickness into a large chignon at the nape of her
neck and stuck six sturdy hairpins into it. Then, giving the
chignon a pat, she reached for her pale-blue cotton dress
sprinkled with tiny yellow-and-white flowers and polished
white buttons running from top to bottom along its front.
She glanced down at me. “You didn’t comb your hair.”

“No’m. I want you to fix me my grown-up hairdo.”
Mama began buttoning the top of her dress with long, fly-
ing fingers as I slowly fastened the lower buttons. I loved to
help Mama dress. She always smelled of sunshine and soap.
When the last button had slipped into place, she buckled a
dark-blue patent-leather belt around her tiny waist and stood
ready except for her shoes. She looked very pretty.
“Where’s your brush?”
“Right here,” I said, picking up the brush from where I
had laid it on the chair.
Mama sat down in Papa’s rocker and I sat on the deerskin
rug in front of her. Mama divided my hair from ear to ear
into two sections and braided the front section to one side
and the back section right in the center. Then she wound
each braid into a flat chignon against my head. My hair was
too thick and long for me to do it well myself, but Mama
could do it perfectly. I figured I looked my very best that way.
When Mama finished, I ran to the mirror, then turned,
facing her with a grin. She grinned back and shook her head
at my vanity.
“One day, Mama, you gonna fix my hair like yours?”
“That’ll be a few years yet,” she answered, readjusting the
cardboard lining she had placed in her shoes to protect her
feet from the dirt and gravel which could easily seep through
the large holes in the soles. She set the shoes on the floor and
stepped into them. Now, with the soles facing downward
and Mama’s feet in them, no one could tell what the shiny
exteriors hid; yet I felt uncomfortable for Mama and wished
that we had enough money for her to have her shoes fixed
or, better still, buy new ones.
After breakfast Stacey, Christopher-John, Little Man, and I
sat impatiently by the dying morning fire waiting for Mama,
Big Ma, and Uncle Hammer. Uncle Hammer was dressing in
the boys’ room and Mama was in with Big Ma. I checked to
make sure none of them was about to appear, then leaned
toward Stacey and whispered, “You think Uncle Hammer
whipped Mr. Simms?”

CHAPTER SIX 89

Š What happened “No,” said Stacey quietly.
last night? “No!” cried Little Man.
“Y-you don’t mean Mr. Simms whipped Uncle Hammer?”
Š Why should Cassie stammered an unbelieving Christopher-John.
be happy nothing “Nothin’ happened,” said Stacey in explanation as he
happened? tugged irritably at his collar.
“Nothin’?” I repeated, disappointed.
“Nothin’.”
“How you know?” asked Little Man suspiciously.
“Mama said so. I asked her straight out this morning.”
“Oh,” replied Little Man, resigned.
“But something must’ve happened,” I said. “I mean Uncle
Hammer and Mr. Morrison look like they haven’t even been
to bed. How come they look like that if nothin’ happened?”
“Mama said Mr. Morrison talked all night to Uncle
Hammer. Talked him tired and wouldn’t let him go up to the
Simmses’.”
“Ah, shoot!” I exclaimed, my dream of revenge against the
Simmses vanishing as Stacey talked. I propped my elbows on
my knees, then settled my head in my upraised hands and
stared into the glowing embers. A burning knot formed in
my throat and I felt as if my body was not large enough to
hold the frustration I felt, nor deep enough to drown the ris-
ing anger.
“It ain’t fair,” Christopher-John sympathized, patting me
lightly with his pudgy hand.
“Sho’ ain’t,” agreed Little Man.
“Cassie,” Stacey said softly. At first I didn’t look at him,
thinking he would go ahead and say what he had to say. But
when he didn’t, I turned toward him. He leaned forward
secretively and automatically Christopher-John and Little
Man did the same. “Y’all better be glad nothin’ happened,”
he said in a whisper. “’Cause I heard Big Ma tell Mama last
night that if Mr. Morrison didn’t stop Uncle Hammer, Uncle
Hammer might get killed.”
“Killed?” we echoed as the fire sputtered and died.
“Who’d do that?” I cried. “Not one of them puny Simmses?”
Stacey started to speak, but then Mama and Big Ma
entered, and he cautioned us into silence.
When Uncle Hammer joined us, freshly shaven and in
another suit, the boys and I put on our coats and headed for

WWords ir • ri • ta • bly ( ir´ə tə ble¯) adv., with annoyance
For
Everyday
Use
90 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

the door; Uncle Hammer stopped us. “Stacey, that the only ¥ What does Stacey
coat you got, son?” he asked. do to show his
maturity?
Stacey looked down at his faded cotton jacket. Everyone
else did too. The jacket was too small for him, that was obvi-
ous, and compared to Little Man’s and Christopher-John’s
and mine, it was admittedly in sadder shape. Yet we were all
surprised that Uncle Hammer would ask about it, for he
knew as well as anyone that Mama had to buy our clothes in
shifts, which meant that we each had to wait our turn for
new clothes. Stacey looked up at Mama, then back at Uncle
Hammer. “Y-yessir,” he answered.

Uncle Hammer stared at him, then waving his hand
ordered, “Take it off.” Before Stacey could question why,
Uncle Hammer disappeared into the boys’ room.

Again Stacey looked at Mama. “You’d better do like he
says,” she said.

Uncle Hammer returned with a long box, store wrapped
in shiny red Christmas paper and a fancy green ribbon. He
handed the package to Stacey. “It was supposed to be your
Christmas present, but I think I’d better give it to you now.
It’s cold out there.”

Gingerly, Stacey took the box and opened it.
“A coat!” cried Little Man joyously, clapping his hands.
“Wool,” Mama said reverently. “Go ahead, Stacey. Try it
on.”
Stacey eagerly slipped on the coat; it was much too big for
him, but Mama said that she could take up the sleeves and
that he would grow into it in another year. Stacey beamed
down at the coat, then up at Uncle Hammer. A year ago he
would have shot into Uncle Hammer’s arms and hugged his
thanks, but now at the manly age of twelve he held out his
hand, and Uncle Hammer shook it.
“Come on, we’d better go,” said Mama.
The morning was gray as we stepped outside, but the rain
had stopped. We followed the path of bedded rocks that led to
the barn, careful not to slip into the mud, and got into the
Packard, shining clean and bright from the washing Uncle
Hammer and Mr. Morrison had given it after breakfast. Inside
the Packard, the world was a wine-colored luxury. The boys
and I, in the back, ran our hands over the rich felt seats, ten-
derly fingered the fancy door handles and window knobs, and
peered down amazed at the plush carpet peeping out on either
side of the rubber mats. Mr. Morrison, who was not a church-
going man, waved good-bye from the barn and we sped away.
As we drove onto the school grounds and parked, the peo-
ple milling in front of the church turned, staring at the

CHAPTER SIX 91

Š What is T.J.’s Packard. Then Uncle Hammer stepped from the car and
reaction to Stacey’s someone cried, “Well, I’ll be doggone! It’s our Hammer!
coat? Hammer Logan!” And in a body, the crowd engulfed us.

T.J. ran up with Moe Turner and Little Willie Wiggins to
admire the car. “It’s Uncle Hammer’s,” said Stacey proudly.
But before the boys could sufficiently admire the car, Mama
and Big Ma shooed us toward the church for the service. It
was then that T.J. noticed Stacey’s new coat.

“Uncle Hammer gave it to him,” I said. “Ain’t it some-
thing?”

T.J. ran his long fingers over the lapels, and shrugged. “It’s
all right, I guess, if you like that sort of thing.”

“All right!” I cried, indignant at his casual reaction to the
coat. “Boy, that’s the finest coat you ever did lay eyes on and
you know it!”

T.J. sighed. “Like I said, it’s all right . . . if you like lookin’
like a fat preacher.” Then he and Little Willie and Moe
laughed, and went on ahead.

Stacey looked down at the coat with its long sleeves and
wide shoulders. His smile faded. “He don’t know what he’s
talking ’bout,” I said. “He’s just jealous, that’s all.”

“I know it,” snapped Stacey sourly.
As we slid into the pew in front of T.J., T.J. whispered,
“Here comes the preacher,” then leaned forward and said
snidely, “How do you do, Reverend Logan?”
Stacey turned on T.J., but I poked him hard. “Mama’s
looking,” I whispered, and he turned back around.
After church, as T.J. and the others looked longingly at the
car, Mama said, “Stacey, maybe T.J. wants to ride.”
Before Stacey could reply, I spoke up hurriedly. “No,
ma’am, Mama, he got something else he gotta do.” Then
under my breath so that I would not be guilty of a lie, I
added, “He gotta walk home like he always do.”
“That’ll teach him,” whispered Little Man.
“Yeah,” agreed Christopher-John, but Stacey sulked by the
window and said nothing.

The sun was out now and Uncle Hammer suggested that
we take a real ride before going home. He drove us the full
twenty-two miles up to Strawberry by way of the Jackson
Road, one of two roads leading to the town. But Mama and

WWords en • gulf (ən ulf) vt., surround, take in
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92 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

Big Ma objected so much to going through Strawberry that ¥ What does Uncle
he turned the big car around and headed back toward home, Hammer say about
taking the old Soldiers Road. Supposedly, Rebel soldiers had the Wallace store?
once marched up the road and across Soldiers Bridge to keep Why does Big Ma
the town from falling into the hands of the Yankee Army,3 shush him?
but I had my doubts about that. After all, who in his right
mind would want to capture Strawberry . . . or defend it
either for that matter?

The road was hilly and curving, and as we sped over it
scattered road stones hit sharply against the car’s underbelly
and the dust swelled up in rolls of billowing clouds behind
us. Little Man, Christopher-John, and I shrieked with delight
each time the car climbed a hill and dropped suddenly
downward, fluttering our stomachs. Eventually, the road
intersected with the Jefferson Davis School Road. Uncle
Hammer stopped the car at the intersection and, leaning his
right arm heavily over the steering wheel, motioned lan-
guidly at the Wallace store. “Got me a good mind to burn
that place out,” he said.

“Hammer, hush that kind of talk!” ordered Big Ma, her
eyes growing wide.

“Me and John Henry and David grew up together. And
John Henry and me even fought in their war together. What
good was it? A black man’s life ain’t worth the life of a cowfly
down here.”

“I know that, son, but that kinda talk get you hung and
you know it.”

Mama touched Uncle Hammer’s arm. “There might be
another way, Hammer . . . like I told you. Now don’t go do
something foolish. Wait for David—talk to him.”

Uncle Hammer looked glassy-eyed at the store, then
sighed and eased the Packard across the road toward Soldiers
Bridge. We were taking the long way home.

Soldiers Bridge was built before the Civil War. It was
spindly and wooden, and each time I had to cross it I held
my breath until I was safely on the other side. Only one vehi-
cle could cross at a time, and whoever was on the bridge first
was supposed to have the right of way, although it didn’t

3. Rebel . . . Yankee Army. Rebel soldiers refers to Southern troops and Yankee
Army refers to Northern troops during the U.S. Civil War.

WWords spind • ly (spind´le¯) adj., narrow and weak
For
Everyday CHAPTER SIX 93
Use

Š Why does the always work that way. More than once when I had been in
truck back off the the wagon with Mama or Big Ma, we had had to back off the
bridge? bridge when a white family started across after we were
already on it.
Š How do the
people in truck react As the bridge came into view the other side of the river
when they see who is was clearly visible, and it was obvious to everyone that an
in the car? old Model-T4 truck, overflowing with redheaded children,
had reached the bridge first and was about to cross, but sud-
Š Why does Mama denly Uncle Hammer gassed the Packard and sped onto the
disapprove of Uncle creaking structure. The driver of the truck stopped, and for
Hammer’s action? no more than a second hesitated on the bridge, then with-
out a single honk of protest backed off so that we could pass.

“Hammer!” Big Ma cried. “They think you’re Mr.
Granger.”

“Well, now, won’t they be surprised when we reach the
other side,” said Uncle Hammer.

As we came off the bridge, we could see the Wallaces, all
three of them—Dewberry, Thurston, and Kaleb—touch their
hats respectfully, then immediately freeze as they saw who
we were. Uncle Hammer, straight-faced and totally calm,
touched the brim of his own hat in polite response and with-
out a backward glance sped away, leaving the Wallaces gap-
ing silently after us.

Stacey, Christopher-John, Little Man, and I laughed, but
Mama’s cold glance made us stop. “You shouldn’t have done
that, Hammer,” she said quietly.

“The opportunity, dear sister, was too much to resist.”
“But one day we’ll have to pay for it. Believe me,” she
said, “one day we’ll pay.”

4. Model-T. Early car model

WWords gape ( a¯p) vt., open-mouthed in astonishment
For
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Use
94 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY

Respond to the Selection

If you were Cassie, how would you have reacted to the incident with Lillian
Jean?

Investigate, Inquire, and Imagine

Recall: GATHERING FACTS Interpret: FINDING MEANING

1a. Why does Stacey disobey his ➛ 1b. Why does Stacey’s opinion of

parents and go to the Wallace store? Mr. Morrison change? What lesson

Why doesn’t Mr. Morrison tell Mama do the children learn from their visit

what Stacey did? What does Mama to the Berry’s?

do instead of whipping her children?

2a. What does Mr. Barnett say to ➛ 2b. Why does Big Ma make Cassie

Cassie when she reminds him that apologize to Lillian Jean? What does

he was waiting on them? What does Cassie learn on this day?

Big Ma make Cassie say after Cassie

bumps into Lillian Jean Simms? Why

does Mr. Simms think Lillian Jean is

better than Cassie?

➛3a. Why doesn’t Big Ma want Cassie 3b. What does Mama mean when

to tell Uncle Hammer about what she says, “One day we’ll pay”?

happened to her in Strawberry? Why

do the Wallaces tip their hats to the

Logans?

Analyze: TAKING THINGS APART Synthesize: BRINGING THINGS
TOGETHER
4a. Analyze T.J.’s actions in chapters
4-6. Consider his actions during ➛ 4b. Do you think T.J. will ever get
exams, in Strawberry, and when he the pearl-handled gun he wants?
sees Stacey’s coat. What would he be willing to do to
get it? What do you think he would
do if he had it?

Evaluate: MAKING JUDGMENTS Extend: CONNECTING IDEAS

5a. Evaluate the different ways in ➛ 5b. How do you deal with an unjust
which Big Ma, Mama, and Uncle situation? Do you fight outright? Do
Hammer handle Cassie’s experiences you fight in a hidden manner? Do
in Strawberry. you give in to power? On what do
you base your decision?

CHAPTER SIX 95

Understanding Literature

Conflict. A conflict is a struggle between two people or things in a literary
work. A plot is formed around conflict. A conflict can be internal or external. A
struggle that takes place between a character and some outside force such as
another character, society, or nature is called an external conflict. A struggle that
takes place within a character is called an internal conflict.
Theme. A theme is a central idea in a literary work. The unfairness of racism is a
theme in this novel. Identify three ways in which this theme is expressed in
chapters 4-6.
Dialogue. Dialogue is conversation involving two or more people or characters.
Examine the dialogue between Cassie and Mama after Cassie returns from
Strawberry. What does Cassie learn from this dialogue? What do you learn about
Mama from the ideas she expresses in this dialogue?

96 ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY